Sudden fire struck his brain. He stood rigid, stricken dumb by the sheer magnificance of his idea. He began to tremble, and the wild hope swelled in him until his veins were gorged and aching.
He said, with infinite care, "You can't create real living creatures, can you?"
"No," said the Sun-child. "I can build the chemicals of their bodies, but the vital spark eludes me. My creatures are simply toys activated by the electrical interplay of atoms. They think, in limited ways, and they feel crude emotions, but they do not live in the true sense."
"But you can build other things? Rocks, soil, water, air?"
"Of course. It would take a great deal of my strength, and it would weaken my shell, since I should have to break down part of the rock to its primary particles and rebuild. But even that I could do, without serious loss."
There was silence. The blue distant fires flared in Falken's eyes. He saw the others staring at him. He saw the chances of failure bulk over him like black thunderheads, crowned with madness and death.
But his soul shivered in ecstasy at the thing that was in it.
The Sun-child said silkily, "Why should I do all this?"
"For amusement," whispered Falken. "The most colossal game you have ever had."
Brilliant colors flared. "Tell me, human!"